


Voluptas

by naznahl



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla, no beta we die like the dragon age fandom did, there's nothing going on with this fic i just had a fun time writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naznahl/pseuds/naznahl
Summary: She's a maddening person and he loves her for it.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Voluptas

**Author's Note:**

> this is 100% based upon my obsession with franz seraph von lenbach's voluptas (1897). thank you for your time.

She has for some reason slipped her arms out her dress and pushed it down until it hangs, held up perhaps only by the grace of Andraste herself, around her waist. She's also opened her hair so it curls around her shoulders, covering her breasts so she’s at least not completely indecent. 

She glances up from her book when Alistair steps in, and gives him a polite half distracted smile, like she wasn't lewd creature sent to torment him. 

"Sana, why are you half nude? And in my room?" 

"My collar was bothering me. I needed to speak with you." 

"Your collar... was bothering you? So you just took off the top of the dress. Is that something women generally do?" he says, a hard breath of exasperation — _and perhaps something a little more than that, if he’s honest_ — entering his voice. 

He pauses, not willing to fight it. "What did you need to talk about?" Alistair slumps onto the bed and starts to strip off his gloves. 

She continues to smile politely at him as she snaps her book shut and Alistair thinks, _What a maddening_ _woman_. _She_ _must_ _know_ _what_ _she_ _does_ _to_ _me_. 

He manages to drag his gaze up from the maze of where her hair hides her skin and decides that _oh yes,_ _she_ _definitely_ _kn_ _ows_. She's smiling in that way she has when a laugh is bubbling up her throat. She's just out of his arm's reach, and when he stands from the bed, she takes a step back. 

"Sana," he says and it comes out hoarser than he intends. 

"Come here, my love," she says, still smiling. She steps back again, coming to lean against the desk. She places the heels of her hands on the wood behind her, and arches her back. The hair covering her nipples falls away and he is treated to the glorious view of her uncovered breasts. 

He feels himself stirring deep in his belly, and takes another step towards her, his hands held out slightly like he’s calming a skittish foal. 

She is playing with him, teasing him for no reason other than the fact that she can, and knows her will listen to her every whim, and he is well aware of the fact. _But M_ _aker, this_ _sa_ _distic, delirium inducing woman_ , Alistair thinks, _if she asks me to wage war against the ent_ _irety of Void itself, I_ _would only laugh and ask for a kiss before departing._

He approaches her, watching her in case she decides to move away again. She raises an eyebrow at his ginger footsteps and shifts her hips in a way that makes the muscles of her torso shift and the dress slide down to reveal the top of her thigh. And that is what makes him lost to her.

He puts his hands on her waist, holding her close enough that he can feel the heat coming from her body, but far enough he can still gaze down at her bare torso. Being like this, touching her, and feeling how present and solid and real she is makes him dizzy. 

Sometimes, when he is feeling sentimental, he feels a need to weep, that someone like her exists in a world where someone like him can even dream of touching her. And here he is, not only lucky enough to have his hands on her, but blessed enough that her hands are on him. She runs her hands over his shoulders, before trailing up to cup at the side of his face, thumbs tracing up to rub at the crest of his ears. 

"Hello, you," she whispers in the space between them. She hasn't brought herself close enough to kiss him yet but the promise of it is felt in her breath on his skin. 

"Hello,” he says back, instantly feeling inane for how melodramatic his thoughts had been just a moment before. He clears his throat. "What did you need to talk about?" 

Her mouth twists up again in a teasing smirk. "I don't remember anymore. Something important, no doubt," she says. The laughter that had threatened her earlier comes rushing over and she chuckles as she closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself into him. 

Alistair feels himself growing hard like this, with her laughing into his ears and her breasts pushed against his chest. He no longer has enough care to worry over becoming so aroused without even being touched, not with her. She feels him against her, and lifts a knee to rub her thigh against his length, idly, carelessly like it's just something one did in response to a man suffering under his lover's cruel machinations. 

"Sana," he practically growls into her ear this time. 

“Yes, love. Alistair. Did you need something?" 

"Well, you could stop teasing me for one, and maybe come to bed with me to make up for whatever it is you're doing now." 

"Hmm," she considers. "But what if the conversation was important? Shouldn't I try to remember it first? Perhaps if I had a good reason to need to lay down I -" 

He silences her with a kiss. It was always an experience to kiss her, the way her shoulders relaxed as she lost herself with his mouth on hers, almost melting as her body lost all tension and molded to his. She eagerly accepts him, losing all her teasing control, letting his tongue into her mouth. She gasps slightly as she breaks their kiss, and then reaches up to bite the tip of his nose. He places his thumb on her lips, pushing up her top lip and hearing his own odd strangled moan as she bites his thumb, too, before laughing into his hand. 

Someone had called her severe once, in front of him, and he’d never understood. She smiled and teased him endlessly, and was often on the edge of laughter. He’d told her once that he was a lucky man just to have her, and she’d brushed it off as she did any other praise anyone gave her. Now, with her in his arms, mischievous and so fey, he wanted to hold her down until she believes him. 

So he kisses her perfect, excellent, amazing mouth again, before tilting her chin up to kiss at her throat. She shivers and gasps into the air as he traces down her neck with his lips, leaving small wet marks on her chest. 

"Alistair - ah!" he interrupts her again as he covers her nipple with his mouth. The cold air had already hardened them some and she shivered as his hot mouth met the sensitive skin of hers. 

He was even harder now, listening to her breath quicken and hitch higher as she laid her hand on his head. He continues his tongue’s explorations until he is down on his knees in front of her, taking care to linger against the scars that littered her skin here and there, running his nose against the indents of the muscles of her torso. 

He presses hard when he kisses the space beneath her belly button before resting his chin against her as he stares up at her from beneath his eyelashes. 

She’s flushed as she looks down at him, mouth slightly open as she breathes raggedly. “Yes, please,” she says to his unspoken question. 

And yes, maybe he does need the assurance to know that she wants him just as much he wants her, so he when he frees her totally from her dress and presses his tongue at her, he’s immensely happy to note that she’s already wet enough that he can feel it through her underwear. Her hips jerk forward instinctively against the cool air and to press more against his face. 

“You’re meant to take that off, silly,” she manages to say. 

“In a second,” he says, burying his nose against her. He licks at the hollow place where her pelvis turned into her thigh, his breath hot against her as he worries at the sensitive skin with his teeth as her thigh twitches against her. 

Being this close to her, feeling the heat of her, how she twitched and rocked into his ministrations, he feels the world disappear until it was just him and her, moaning and melding into each other. 

"Love, please," she says again. She drops her hand to rest on his head and ruffles at his hair. For all her coyness, she had never been able to bear his teasing her in return. 

He grins up at her to see her eyes half lidded as she looks down at him, her stomach rising and falling quickly with each stuttering breath. And so he does pull her underwear down to pool on the ground alongside her dress and she gives him a deep chested moan as a gift in response. Starting to lick at her outer lips, he feels her grow warmer and wetter as her thighs begin to quiver in earnest. He kisses her at there, with absolute pressure and want, pressing against her clit before flattening his tongue to rock against it. 

The hand on his hair tightens into a fist and her breathing turns into a gasping-moaning-laughing shudder of a sound. He puts his mouth where she wants him to be, mouthing at the seam of her before licking in. Her gasping morphs into a sob as the whole of her body shudders. 

He pushes a finger insider her so that he can reach deeper than his tongue, rubbing in slow languishing circles before joining it with another one. He reaches up and back to push at a spot he knows will make her lose even more of her composure. 

She’s moaning into a crescendo as he continues to rock his tongue and fingers against her and he’s straining so hard against his pants it’s become an aching distraction he has to work to ignore. 

When she starts to come, he feels it in the grip of her squeezing fingers in his hair first, then in the way she pushes her body so hard against his face that he’s thankful he’s a good swimmer. 

She gives him one agonized hoarse shout that she tries very hard to muffle before losing the strength in her legs as she came. She slides on her back down the desk which had been the only thing keeping her standing up so far. 

"My lady seems to have fallen. Perhaps a bed will help her with her convalescence?" He says, mouth red and face even worse off. He knows he must look ridiculous, his mouth covered in her orgasm, his hair mussed from what she did to it. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” she says, her voice sounding as wrecked as he feels. He grins wolfishly at her and stands up with only the slightest of trembling in his legs to gather her up in his arms. 

He drops her on the bed because he knows she’ll giggle as she bounces on it and arranges himself on his hands and knees on top of her to kiss his already swollen mouth against hers. She instantly wraps her legs around his waist, pushing her hips up to rub up against him, trying to pull his clothes off him as she does. Her valiant efforts are deterred as the grip of her thighs hold his wretched, insubordinate clothing in place. 

"You're going to have to give at least one of your efforts up, my dear," he says as she frowns. 

"Oh, never," she says and begins to unbutton his shirt and shift her hips in a frankly maddening way to pull it off of him. She lets out a triumphant _ha!_ when she wins against her enemy. 

"Excellent work,” he muses, “and how will you defeat my trousers?" 

"Perhaps I will set them on fire," she scowls down at the offending garment. 

"I'm afraid I'll be useless to you if that part catches on fire." 

“And I would love you regardless,” she declares, deciding to be the bigger person and let go of his body with her legs so that they both can work at tugging off his trousers and his boots. 

He hisses slightly as his unfortunately already too ready cock welcomes the fresh air at near-full attention. 

“Let me help you,” she says, kissing the corner of his mouth and wrapping a hand around him. She grips him lightly and only just starts to move them up to the head as pre-come leaks out around her fingers when he realizes that they’re heading into a too early conclusion. 

“I don’t think I -” he starts, and she understands him enough to let him go. He sighs into her shoulder and she places both her arms around him to hug his back. 

“Are you okay?” she asks before placing a light kiss against his freckled shoulder. 

He nods, smiling simperingly at her, “Let me do it.” 

They let out matching moaning gasps as he guides himself inside her, positioning himself so he can thrust against that same tender place that’d ruined her so easily before. 

Her hands slide down as they start to curl into each other with their rocking and her fingers start to dig in against the flesh of his ass, no doubt hard enough to leave marks. 

He groans at the painful pleasure of her nails on him and her tightening around his cock, resting his forehead against hers as he tries to position them both so they can make as much skin contact as possible. 

For a deliriously embarrassing moment, he realizes that he is going to orgasm far too quickly to let her come again and he tries desperately to remember any Chantry hymn at all to distract him as his hips continue to snap against her in rhythm to her moaning of his name. 

“Alistair, I love you,” she chants, “I love you. I love you.” 

That's when he decides that this is a battle that he’s going to lose and so instead he slams into her again and again, losing any strand of reason he had and any hope of a skillful seduction of her.

Her breath is so hot in his ear, her skin is sliding so wetly against his, her nails are so deeply cutting in to him, he can't win against her but he never has been able to.

When he comes, it’s with her name strangling into a groan and a slumping of his sweating body to lie heavily on hers. 

She holds him, pressing a tender kiss onto his burning ear. “I remembered what I needed to talk to you about.” 


End file.
